I had a dream last night. I was going to say it was a bit odd, but really it wasn’t odd so much as just dream-like, with the reality being different and just knowing stuff that isn’t true. In the dream my parents were over, and Duncan who was inexplicably 15 months old was taking his first steps and my parents were telling me to get the video camera, which I did, but I was confused for a second remembering that Duncan was 15 months old, and that my current baby was 4 months old, a little girl with a mass of wispy blond curls.

When I woke up (suddenly, more on that later), I did the math and realized that if I were to have a 4 month old when Duncan was 15 months I’d need to get pregnant this month. I would venture that one would not need a degree in psychology to know what this dream was about. It was certainly not predictive of the future. I will be vastly surprised if Duncan doesn’t walk before 15 months, the boy can already support his weight on his legs assuming an adult handles balance for him. I also find a four-month-old with a head full of blond curls improbably. My kids start with some hair, but it doesn’t really get long enough to curl for a while. Duncan’s light brown hair is about as light as I can reasonably expect from the combination of my genes with Warren’s and sperm from anyone other than Warren is out of the question. Also, given that I am not currently shooting up the Menopur, the chances of me conceiving this coming month are statistically indistinguishable from zero. No, this dream was clearly about my thrice-damned period. Apparently my body is not a big believer in lactational amenorrhea; I got a light period just before Mother’s Day, and I am now in day three of another period that seems to be a return to menstruation in all it’s gory. I’m saturating maxi pads at a rate that is only a small factor off from call-an-ambulance-I’m-hemorrhaging. Luckily the cramps are at the barely-there level, but I expect they will slowly strengthen with each period from here on out.

I would like to have another baby. I’m not sure I’d be psyched for having one nine months from now; I’ve only just gotten to the point where I’m not constantly overwhelmed by two. If we do IVF again it won’t be until Duncan is at least a year old. Given that I’ll be turning 40 in a few months that makes our chances of a third child pretty slim, but it is nice to dream. Still, I think I can dream without my uterus doing the whole I-have-endometriosis-watch-me-gush thing.

Oh, and the wake up… So there I was lying in bed with Margaret snuggled up on my left side, and Duncan semi-asleep on my right arm nursing on that side. We were getting a much-needed and much-deserved late morning when the doorbell starting to ring in rapid succession. Warren got out to see what it was. Apparently it was the police, wanting me to move my car so that the storm drain in front of our house could be replace. I made Warren deal, because Margaret is not a happy camper about being awakened before she is ready, and me leaving bed would have led to screaming. It would have been nice if the town had put up a sign warning us the night before. Somerville has enough night-owl nerds that it is not safe to assume that people are awake and ready to face the day at 8am.

Duncan had his four month checkup today. He’s healthy, ahead of the game on his milestones, and weighs in at 14 pounds 5 ounces.

Cat, the temporary au pair seems to be a hit with Margaret, at least so far. The whole temporary au pair thing has a bit of a surreal quality to it. I think Cat is nice, but I’m looking forward to Hongmei’s arrival so we can get settled with someone we expect to stay at least a year.